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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23727451">tantrum.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sagelabyrinth/pseuds/sagelabyrinth'>sagelabyrinth</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mindhunter (TV 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ficlet, Panic Attacks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:12:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>511</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23727451</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sagelabyrinth/pseuds/sagelabyrinth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>pan·ic<br/>//<br/>sudden uncontrollable fear or anxiety, often causing wildly unthinking behavior.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Holden Ford &amp; Bill Tench</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>tantrum.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i'm writing this story in lowercases, so sorry if you don't like that sort of thing.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>holden could feel his heart racing, pounding pounding pounding-- and he's drenched, soaked, sweat pours off his brow like a tsunami, like lavas raining down on him making it hot hot hot--</p><p>and he can't even see, like the light's gone out and no one is tall enough to reach the bulb-- holden isn't tall enough, no sir, he is small very small so small the ceiling seems to stretch further and further upwards, so much so it begins to spiral</p><p>and he's spinning spinning spinning-- he gags into the toilet bowl. suddenly he's cold. very cold. the porcelain chair is disgustingly cold against his sweaty, hot skin. the floor is rough on his knees, bumpy concrete floors. who puts concrete in a restroom? he supposes that's what he gets for taking his work into the basement. rough old concrete aching his knees.</p><p>there's a door screeching open, someone needs to oil the hinges. heavy feet place themselves on the ground, moving slowly across the room. they're coming to him. to holden. there's another bout of panic, something tells him to run, run run fast and not look back--</p><p> </p><p>"jesus," bill groaned, "again?"</p><p>holden's eyes adjusted to the bright light streaming into the restroom stall. the panic resided at the sight of his partner. although they weren't on best terms, a familiar face always helped ease holden's mind.</p><p>"'m sorry," holden mustered, still he laid pathetically on the floor, clutching the throne, like it could cure him of all sickness.</p><p>"get up, you like shit."</p><p> </p><p>wobbly, he stretched up, bones and joints clicking and clacking. he was shaking with his steps as bill helped guide him to the sink. his elder turned on the faucet and wet a rag, "here," he ushered the boy the rag, "clean the vomit off your face."</p><p>as instructed, holden did. bill sighed and slumped into the wall, "third time this week, kid." he remarked, "third. are ya' sick or something? or is this another tantrum?"</p><p>there's that word again. tantrum. like holden was a bratty child in the supermarket whose parents wouldn't cave in and give him a candy bar.</p><p>holden couldn't help but scoff, "i don't have ''tantrums'', bill, i have panic attacks. where it feels like my entire world is spinning at a thousand miles per second, and my body is shaking and aching, my heart is pounding like a drum and my legs give out. now if you'd f...fucking stop with the patronization, i would appreciate it."</p><p> </p><p>bill looked toward the boy with a dubious expression. a couple beats of silence passed before either of the men spoke again. holden kept his eye contact with bill, he couldn't shy away after his outburst. clicking his tongue, bill spoke, "alright then."</p><p>holden could breathe again, "alright." he repeated.</p><p> </p><p>bill moved off the wall and went for the exit, "holden?"</p><p>"yes?"</p><p>"next time you have one of these... panic attacks? don't make me have to pick your ass up off the floor."</p><p> </p><p>holden laughed. a small, dry, somewhat bitter laugh, but a laugh.</p>
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